wilddeoren:
eyes flutter close to the touch, ignoring the sting of her tears, how her beloved’s touch only granted more to stream down her cheeks. nose – red from strain, sniffed as she nodded in response. yes. she was here. alethea was here now – that was what mattered after all, wasn’t it?
and yet – merrill couldn’t fight the feeling that this was somehow her fault. it always was. this was a fact she knew by now. people left her – abandoned their feelings for her for that of spite or REGRET – could hawke truly be so different? tears now raced down her cheeks, shoulders trembling with a sob as her head turns, an attempt to hide the evidence from the other – a failed attempt, really.
Merrill -- oh Merrill; the Mage had simply brought her form closer. Alethea secured her grasp, arms around frail hips; fingers barely allotting pressure against the surface of the Dale’s skin. She had to make sure that Merrill felt -- felt safe, secure .., it was alright; Hawke didn’t understand why Merrill presented herself in such melancholy. It only made the Mage’s heart ache further.
Still, Alethea coddles her, sways their bodies in a sense of comfort. She doesn’t mind the shedding of tears; Merrill had every right, every privilege to reveal her deepest of feelings towards Hawke, in fact, she wished for the feelings of communication -- there’s needed to be mutual understanding.
With a soft motion, Alethea tilts, planting a kiss to the side of Merrill’s head; insisting to keep her close. “My dear --” she breaks the silence. “What, what is it that has you so upset?”
